Chapter Twelve
VALENTINO
The convoy of black SUVs winds through the Hudson Valley hills under a clear afternoon sky.
The estate unfolds before us like a carefully engineered sanctuary. Stone pathways, manicured gardens, and discreet security towers blend into the natural landscape.
This is no ordinary retreat.
The Aurelius Consortium designed it as a live-testing environment for family security scenarios. Every building, every sight line, and every access point serves dual purposes: luxury and evaluation.
I note the placement of hidden cameras and reinforced entry points as our vehicle pulls up to the private family cottage assigned to us.
Livia sits beside me in the back seat. Nico occupies the booster seat between us, his small hands clutching a toy car.
The boy has been surprisingly calm during the drive, asking questions about the trees and the large gates we passed. I answered each one directly, watching how his gray eyes lit up with curiosity.
The fake engagement contract sits signed and sealed in my system, yet the reality of sharing this space with them feels heavier than any document.
Margaret Aurelius herself greeted us at the main lodge upon arrival. Other firms had already settled in.
I recognized representatives from three competitors, all polished and watchful.
One man in particular caught my attention. A tall, sharply dressed executive from De Luca Security Solutions. Dante’s company.
His gaze lingered on Livia a fraction too long before sliding to Nico. I filed the observation away for later review. Competition is expected here, but personal history adds layers I don’t yet fully understand.
“The cottage is yours for the duration,” Margaret had said with a warm smile. “We want families to be comfortable. True protection begins at home, after all.”
The cottage is luxurious. Two bedrooms, a spacious open living area, a full kitchen, and a private terrace overlooking the lake.
Separate sleeping quarters satisfy the contract, but the shared kitchen, dining space, and living room make intimacy unavoidable. Family meals. Public couple appearances. Nico running between us. The setup tests more than security protocols.
We step inside. The air carries the faint scent of fresh linen and pine. Large windows flood the space with natural light.
Nico immediately explores, sneakers thudding softly on the hardwood floors. Livia sets her bag down near the couch and watches me with careful eyes. I remove my jacket and roll up my sleeves.
I begin unpacking the groceries Sofia arranged for delivery. Milk, fresh fruit, pasta, and the specific snacks Nico prefers. I move through the kitchen with quiet efficiency, placing items in cabinets and the refrigerator.
Next I check every window lock, testing the mechanisms and noting the reinforced glass.
I test the terrace doors next.
Steel-core construction hidden beneath polished wood. Smart.
The Aurelius Consortium does not believe in obvious protection. They believe in invisible control.
I step back inside just as Nico skids into the kitchen holding his toy car over his head.
“Mom said we can see the lake later.”
His excitement arrives in sharp contrast to the tension quietly coiling beneath my skin.
“We can,” I tell him.
He beams like I’ve handed him ownership of the entire property.
Livia watches the exchange from across the room, arms folded loosely over her chest.
In Nico’s bedroom I adjust the bed rail on the larger bed provided for him, securing it firmly against the frame.
I scan for potential hazards, moving a floor lamp slightly and ensuring electrical cords stay out of reach. The actions come naturally. Making the house safer requires no request. It’s simply what must be done.
Livia stands in the doorway watching me. She doesn’t speak, but her eyes follow every movement of my hands.
The sight of her there, sleeves pushed up and hair loosely tied back, stirs an unfamiliar pull in my chest. This feels too domestic for people bound by a ten-day lie.
Nico runs back into the room carrying his backpack. He stops beside me and looks up. “Are you sleeping over because you are going to marry Mommy?”
A pin could drop right now and you'd hear it with how quiet it immediately gets. Livia freezes near the kitchen island and I pause with a box of cereal still in my hands. For a full second neither of us moves.
The boy waits with innocent patience, his curls slightly messy from the car ride.
I set the cereal down and crouch to his level. “We’re here together for the retreat. Your mother and I have work to do, and this cottage is where we stay.”
Nico considers this. “Okay. But you get the big room with Mommy?”
Livia clears her throat. “Nico, sweetheart, there are two bedrooms. Valentino has his own.”
The boy nods but looks between us with that watchful intelligence again. “Can we have pasta tonight? The kind with the little meatballs.”
Relief flickers across Livia’s face at the change of subject. “Yes, we can, baby. Let me find the pots.”
We slip into a certain ease after that. Livia moves around the kitchen, filling a pot with water while I locate the ingredients.
Her nervous laughter breaks the tension when she drops a wooden spoon and it clatters loudly. The sound triggers something deep in my memory. That same light laugh from years ago, breathless and surprised. Venice.
From the masked woman in a moonlit library who had looked at me with wide eyes after I pinned her against the wall. Her voice had hitched the same way when she begged me later that night.
I force my attention back to the present and hand her the package of pasta. Our fingers brush, and the contact sends heat straight through me.
We prepare the meal together while Nico tries his best to set the small table, giving up after nearly throwing his cup on the ground.
Public couple appearances have begun, even here. Staff from the consortium pass by the windows occasionally, observing how we function as a unit.
I remain close to Livia, placing a hand lightly on her lower back when I reach past her for plates. She stiffens slightly but does not pull away. The contract allows necessary appearances.
The contact lasts only a second.
Still, I feel the exact moment her breathing changes.
Livia reaches for the stack of plates too quickly afterward, knocking one slightly off balance before catching it against her hip.
“I’ve got it,” I say quietly.
“I know.”
But her voice comes out thinner than usual.
Nico climbs into his chair and immediately begins driving his toy car across the table with loud engine noises that echo through the cottage.
The normalcy of it unsettles me more than any threat assessment ever could.
Domestic noise.
Warm lighting.
Pasta boiling on the stove while a child chatters about lakes and trees and whether ducks sleep at night.
None of this belongs in my life.
Yet I find myself adjusting to it with dangerous ease.
Livia carries the bowl of meatballs to the table, and I take it from her before she can burn her hand on the hot ceramic.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
Our eyes meet briefly.
There’s caution there. Also fatigue, awareness, and beneath all of it, something that looks too much like memory.
I look away first.
We sit down to dinner together.
Nico talks enough for all three of us combined. “There was a deer outside the gate,” he says between bites. “Did you see it? It was huge. Bigger than Benny's Mama's dog.”
“That seems unlikely. Your friend's mom has the biggest dog I've ever seen,” Livia says dryly.
“It was.”
I hide the faint pull threatening at the corner of my mouth by taking a sip of water.
Nico points his fork at me suddenly. “Do you know how to fish?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Can you teach me tomorrow?”
Livia opens her mouth immediately. “Nico, Valentino is here to work—”
“I can teach him,” I say before fully considering why.
Livia’s gaze snaps to mine.
Nico practically vibrates in his chair. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Mommy hates fish.”
“I don’t hate fish,” Livia says.
“You screamed when that little one touched your foot when you went with pippy.” That word again.
Her expression turns horrified. “You remember that? You were two.”
He shrugs casually. “I remember everything.”
I almost choke on my drink from my sudden amusement.
The boy is a peculiar one for sure. Even I need help remembering what I had for breakfast sometimes.
After dinner Nico grows tired from the travel, even discarding his plan to check out the lake. I help him wash up and read him a short story from the tablet while Livia watches from the doorway.
The boy falls asleep quickly, curled under the blankets with his favorite toy car beside him. I adjust the nightlight and step out, closing the door softly.
Livia waits in the living area. The shared space feels smaller now with just the two of us. I decide the moment has come. Too many pieces hover at the edge of my understanding.
I call her aside to the private terrace. “Livia.”
She follows me outside. The evening air carries the scent of lake water and blooming flowers. Strings of soft lights illuminate the space. I close the sliding door behind us for privacy.
“When you mentioned Venice that day in my office,” I begin, keeping my voice low, “you knew exactly what you were saying.”
She stiffens before she can smooth her expression. The reaction confirms everything.
I continue. “The masquerade party. The library. We didn’t take off our masks. You recognized me the day of the interview, did you not? My tattoo gave it away.”
There is a long pause where she just stares at me. The she shakes her head. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“But you said Venice.”
“It was a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes.”
I step closer. “The math makes sense. You were running from your father then. It’s clear there’s still bad blood between you two.”
She shakes her head more firmly. “This is absurd. My boss claiming we had sex. What would HR think about that?”
I stare at her for a full second. Then I close the remaining distance. She backs up until she meets the wall of the cottage.
I brace one arm beside her face, caging her without touching. Our bodies remain inches apart. I can see the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. Her breath hitches audibly. Her coconut and citrus scent surrounds me, warm and intoxicating.
“Patience, tesero,” I murmur, deliberately dropping my voice to a deep rumble. “You’re beautiful like this. Flushed. Needy. Look at you.”
Her breaths come faster now, shallow and quick. I let one lazy finger trail slowly down the exposed line of her neckline, tracing the delicate skin until it stops just above the soft swell of her cleavage peeking from her shirt.
She reacts with a full-body shiver that travels through her. Her nipples harden visibly beneath the fabric. I watch them tighten, wanting to taste them, to pull them into my mouth until she whimpers.
“The way you tremble when I touch you,” I continue, voice low and rough. “So soft. So responsive.”
A small moan escapes her lips, desire rolling off her in waves. I can almost taste it. My cock hardens fully, straining against my trousers with painful urgency.
The need to lift her against this wall, wrap her legs around my waist, and drive deep into her slick heat nearly overwhelms me.
I lean in even further. Our lips touch lightly as I speak, the barest brush that sends fire through my veins. “Need more reminding?”
Her dark eyes are heavy-lidded, glued to mine. Then, so softly I almost don't hear it, she whispers, “No, Valentino. I have never been to Venice.”
She places both hands on my chest and pushes. Hard. I let her go. The sliding door clicks shut behind her, and I'm left with the cold night air and the sound of my own breathing.